at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
18K notes
·
View notes
i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA
SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.
NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^
You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.
Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?
However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.
Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.
It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.
Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.
Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.
He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.
How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?
"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.
You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"
Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.
"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"
"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"
With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.
Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."
"Although?"
"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."
Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"
"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"
You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."
You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.
Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.
Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.
Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.
There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.
That it would be worth it.
So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!
This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.
Now, you wait.
You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.
Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.
You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.
Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.
Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.
Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.
His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."
With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."
You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.
Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.
"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."
The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.
You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.
You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...
"Fine."
That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.
You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.
Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.
The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.
The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.
"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"
You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,
"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!
The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.
You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.
You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.
Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.
"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."
You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.
"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"
"Wait."
Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.
"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"
"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."
You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—
"I understand. It's fine."
"So? Do you have plans after this?"
Together.
1K notes
·
View notes
Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 2/7)
PART 2 BAYBEE WAHOOO!! Three more gijinka designs comin right up!
I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there’s gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I’ll be linking here when done vvv
(Part One) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)
!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) This also contains a small amount of blood on one of the images!!
@saltydkart-reblogs
And that’s pretty much it, designs under the cut!
JOE:
The reason Joe dislikes most bird pokemon such as fletchling is because they're always stealing and pecking at the olives he... or well more specifically his company grows.
Speaking of which, they own a large plot of land which is used specifically to grow olive trees, which of course are used to make the olive oil he sells. What? Did you think that the olives come from Joe themselves? Of course not silly, welcome to capitalism.
That being said, Joe DOES know how to garden. When they first started their olive oil company they had to grow their own olive trees. Nowadays, in their spare time, they'll sometimes be found tending to the olive trees in their company's garden.
His crown is personally tailored for Joe and Joe ONLY. Crafted with the shiniest gold and the richest olives, all fit for a king! Somehow it never falls of his head. (Fun fact: the points are made to look like olive oil bottles)
Joe needs glasses but usually wears contacts when in public. Not that they look bad with glasses, it's just a personal choice.
Joe LOVES being involved in... well, anything! As long as it's not weird or sexual or illegal (that last one counts UNLESS it involves scamming others into buying his oil products), he is more than happy to invite himself into whatever is going on around him. What are you going to do? Stop him? Oh please!
HANNAH Ü:
At the start of her career, she would spend her days doing her own one-man (or.. well... woman) shows at subway stations, telling stories and entertaining other pokemon and people alike while they waited for the next train to arrive.
Her hat and cape are made entirely of salt! She is able to transform her cape and hat into different shapes and usually used this ability of hers to make stuff such as accessories, hats, and props that fit the role she's donning at the time.
Hannah LOVES collecting stickers and often wears them proudly on her body (in her poke form ofc ofc). However, she usually has to get someone else to stick them onto her bc of her lack of actual hands.
Some of her improv roles are inspired by the people she meets while others are inspired by pieces of media she's interested in at the moment.
Will ABSOLUTELY learn a new language if she needs to for a role. Duolingo speedrun world record
MYKYIE:
As stated previously, Mykyie used to be a circus performer before he quit to pursue his dreams. His most popular act involved him spinning plates on a stick while standing on a ball.
^^^ Because of this, he also has really, REALLY good balance.
Mykyie always keeps his Miku glowsticks on him, even when not attending any of her concerts.
"Anger Point" is basically an uncontrollable form of last resort whenever Mykyie is close to death but can still fight, it usually leads to him attacking whoever or whatever caused him great harm (In the instance of Lark, it was when he crit Mykyie and the ladder's health was extremely low.)
The Miku tattoo on Mykyie's arm was designed by Mykyie himself! However, it was drawn on him by an anonymous underground artist who went by many names to hide his true identity. The name that the artist went by at the time Mykyie got his tattoo was "Cl@ir33"
The cuffs and cape that he wears are... well, WERE, red. An unknown force seems to be slowly turning them into a shade of blue.
And that's all the HCs for now! Next Gijinka batch will consist of GrAce, Braidy, and Christene's
Also here's the posterless version of Joe's Gijinka bio before I go
109 notes
·
View notes